


Hermes Academy

by bastardoftherealm



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: (at crimeschool), Breaking and Entering, Crime School AU, I’m gonna jump around on characters/relationships so much, More characters will be added as they're introduced, Multi, Speedrunning, Will probably update infrequently, a good balance of angst and fluff, and will be more of a world building thing rather than having a coherent story line, because. why not, dream and illumina rivals to lover speedrun (literally), mentorships, more character than plot based, parental figures, there'll probably be more romantic relationships added as time progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:14:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27653243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bastardoftherealm/pseuds/bastardoftherealm
Summary: Hidden in the northern mountains of Scandinavia, is a school for those who wish to better themselves in the art of all things illegal. The newest class promises a bigger challenge than ever, enough to give all of the professors headaches for weeks.It's all the thrill of college, while also learning to hack national databases, create perfect forgeries, and learn how to paralyze someone with one move. What could go wrong?
Relationships: Clay | Dream & IlluminaHD, Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF) & GeorgeNotFound, Clay | Dream/IlluminaHD, Dave | Technoblade & Phil Watson, TommyInnit & Toby Smith|Tubbo
Comments: 14
Kudos: 96





	1. A Bright and Terrible Afternoon

The air around him was cold as Phil pushed open the curtains to the south window in his shabby professor’s apartment on campus, a cup of peppermint tea in his hands for the migraine he’d had since he’d woken up that morning. He wasn’t sure if it was the latent stress from move-in day, or the fact that classes started tomorrow, or if it was that he knew that the son of the CEO of InnitCorp was in not just his homeroom, but also a few of his other classes. Their last interaction had been...similarly painful to the migraine.

He just hoped that the several years between then and now had put some maturity into him.

Phil set the mug on the desk next to the window, smiling at the photo of his wife on the counter next to his laptop. She’d promised to visit soon, but he wasn’t sure if she’d even be let in on the premises. He’d told her where he worked when they’d gotten engaged, in case him being a teacher at a school for future professional criminals was a dealbreaker. Phil got lucky. It wasn’t. 

They were stingy on who they let in and out, obviously. No regular person was stumbling onto campus without a reason, especially with them located in the remote north of some scandinavian country. Even Phil wasn’t sure if it was Sweden or Finland, or even a Western part of Russia, he just knew that it was somewhere on the coast, where the sea froze over into an icy froth during the winter, and the students pushed each other off the craggily rocks and into the water.

He let out a sigh as he looked across the yard, where he could see the rounds of black cars dropping off students, who all held their ties, green and black striped, in hand. It was both tradition and protocol to wear something over your eyes when being picked up from your rendezvous location, and most students chose their ties over the black sacks that went over the whole head. Older students, some of which he recognized, dragged along younger ones, who held the black ties that came with the first year uniform.

His apartment unfortunately faced the yard this year, rather than the one with its window towards the sea that he’d been lucky enough to nab the year before. Phil would have to hope that this year's student body would stay towards the eastern yard this year instead of the west, or else he’d have to deal with the noise, or things getting ‘accidentally’ thrown at his window. 

Phil had at least a few hours before he’d be required at the faculty meeting before dinner, and could spend some time with a book and his tea before he had to walk the halls filled with the incoming class. He knew he’d be swarmed by at least a few of them, asking about his syllabus before class, whether or not he’d require the third language credit this year, and if he’d be holding tutoring sessions for those who fell behind. 

He was lucky that his class was a relatively normal one. Phil had been a traveling grifter in his previous life, speaking nearly eight languages now, with an authority on much of the culture and security in different countries. He primarily taught ‘Global Law and Culture’, a required course for first years, along with the elective courses ‘Confidence Tricks Throughout History’, ‘The Art of Deception’, and Japanese and French language courses that were popular with many of the students. 

He’d never really wanted to be a teacher, always enjoying the time alone in his travels, depending on only himself; but when it was between jail time and a well-paying job talking about what he knew best? He chose teaching.

Phil grabbed his mug again as he pushed one of the curtains back into place, looking down at the figures walking by, before heading towards his small living room. He passed through the hallway, where a closed door led to the bathroom, before walking into his lounge space. At the far end was a bookshelf, filled with all sorts of volumes of different sizes.

He flipped through them, wondering which he might assign for reading this year. Phil pulled one out, a murder mystery he hadn’t read in a while, and took a seat in one of his chairs. He kept looking over at the door as he tried to enjoy the last few hours of freedom before his duty as a faculty member kicked in, as if he was expecting someone to start knocking down his door any second.

Eventually, the time came, and he put on something that looked relatively nice, a monotone, worn suit that would blend in with the other faculty well. Phil placed his glasses on the bridge of his nose, and pulled the satchel over his shoulder, before opening the door to his apartment, and stepping out into the hall. He locked the two bolts on his door, the ones that he used as backup in case the one that required his fingerprint was disabled. 

At Hermes Academy, anything was possible.

Phil headed down the hall, pushing the door at the end open. The sounds of students, their voices and their shoes echoing against the cold grey tile that laid the floor of the entire academy, hit him all at once, and he looked down at the bustle of people below. Some shoved each other around, while others ducked and dipped by to avoid being caught in a scuffle. Phil took in one final deep breath, and descended the stairs. 

As he traveled through the sea of students, a few people stared, while others shouted loud hellos. He gave the few he knew a wave, and headed towards the faculty lounge, which was wherever this meeting was supposed to take place.

Any students that stopped him to ask about class, he simply waved away with a quick, “I’ll go over it when class has actually started.” 

For students at a school about breaking rules, you would be surprised at the amount working to ace their classes.

He took a few turns to the quieter halls of the academy, passing one of the center courtyards, where people were already laying around outside, chatting and enjoying the last bits of sunlight before the bitter northern winter took over for much of the school year. Phil spotted a few fellow professors heading in the same direction, and took one last turn, only to notice a student leaning against the wall next to the entrance to the faculty lounge. 

The kid was tall, though Phil supposed that he wasn’t technically a ‘kid’, most students here were college age or older, but he’d known this particular student since before his first year. His eyes were deep with bags, and his skin as pale as ever, but his hair was noticeably pinker this year than the one previous.

“Class starts tomorrow Techno,” Phil sighed as he slowed to stop at the door. Nicknames or pseudonyms were common at the academy, often to hide your identity, either if you were the child of someone powerful, or simply for your own future safety. Enemies made here were often enemies for life. “You can ask me all of the questions about it to your heart's content tomorrow.” 

“Why would you think I have questions about class?” He replied, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe I just like this corridor.” 

“Because you always have questions.” Phil glanced around. “And it’s never a good sign when out of any other student I've run into today, you’ve managed to get the most out of me.” Phil furrowed his eyebrows at the student’s well groomed pink hair pulled into a ponytail. “What’s with the, uh-” he pointed to Techno’s head.

He smoothed it back with a hand subconsciously. “Friend back home dared me to do it.” Techno’s eyes were dull and tired beneath his glasses. “I’m taking your Art of Deception course this year, and I want to know if you’re having verbal presentations.”

“You're taking AD? But you’re a forgery major,” Phill furrowed his eyebrows before shaking his head. “What am I saying. I don’t care right now. I need to get into this meeting. You can learn when you come to class.” 

“Yes or no?” Techno replied.

“Class. Tomorrow.” Phil moved past him, pushing open the door. 

The door swung shut behind him, and though he felt bad, he knew Techno wouldn’t take it too harshly. The year was just beginning, and Phil wanted a few more moments of peace before the chaos of the school year overtook him.

It _was_ a school for criminals, but that didn’t mean that they weren’t adamant about grades, and overachievers like Techno could grate on you, despite their best intentions.

He sat through the meeting, incredibly bored, texting his wife on their secure line under the table. It lasted until dinner, when they were then sent off to the dining hall to sit through the opening remarks of their Headmaster.

Phil took his seat next to the head of the Infiltration department, Professor Takahashi, and one of the hacking professors. There were already some students in the room, scattered about throughout the tables that dotted the open room, hanging out and talking. As soon as the professors arrived, most of the school began filtering in through the open doors at the end and on either sides of the hall. A few even pushed open window pains above and rappelled down, no doubt either trying to show off, or impress some of the first years.

It was another ten minutes or so before the doors were closed, and a tall man in a fancier version of the school’s uniform took to the podium. 

“Hello everyone,” he said in his cheerful, accented tone. “For those of you who don’t know, I am your Headmaster, Dr. Scott S. Major, and I am here to welcome you all to another year at Hermes Academy. We are glad to have everyone here, and it’s wonderful to see all of your shining faces, ready for a year of doing what we do best.” 

A cheer went up from one of the tables, and was quickly echoed by the rest of the student body. Phil’s eyes fell onto the table filled with students he’d pegged as troublemakers since they’d been first years two odd years ago. 

“It appears that our juniors over there agree,” Headmaster Major replied good-naturedly. Phil felt a half smirk grow on his face. The Headmaster came off as a cheerful mark, but under the surface, he was a well put together Mastermind. He'd graduated top of his class from the program when he'd attended the academy.

There was no doubt in Phil's mind that he'd not only deduced long before the ceremony that one of that group might try to pull something during Opening, but also knew to take their... “I think they still have a lot to learn.” He pulled a set of keys from his pocket. “Mr. Dream, I believe you’re missing these.” Scott was never wrong.

A tall, muscular kid with short brown hair stood, and the hall erupted into laughter. His friends at either side, one Sapnap and George, slapped him on the back as they roared with snorted laughter. 

However, Phil’s eyes flicked across the room, to where another junior sat, arms crossed against his chest, a smile tight on his face. Illumina seemed pleasantly amused that his rival was being called out for showboating.

It was no secret that Dream and Illumina were always at each other's throats, half of the school making bets about whether or not they would eventually get together, while the other half school was hoping that both of them shut up about the Sumner Run for once. They were both the same year, top of their class, obsessed with the Infiltration department’s course known as the Sumner Run, usually used to test the speed and ingenuity with which students could plan and execute a heist on a heavily guarded object, but used by them to see who could come up with shortcuts to better shave down their time.

They’d been breaking each other’s records as soon as they’d been let into the course. Phil wondered what bullshit they’d get up to this year.

He pulled his eyes away as Dream dashed up to snatch his keys, putting his hands up in a ‘not my fault’ way as he returned to his friends.

“Anyway,” Scott continued. “As we do every year, I must go over the ground rules. Even though this is a school centered around things that may lead you to believe that you will be able to get away with stealing or other illegal activity, there is often a chance you will not. The point of the academy is to teach, not to allow you to steal from your fellow classmates. However, there are a few exceptions.”

He held out a finger, “number one. If you are stealing something for a class project or assignment, it must be returned within four hours of it being turned in. Number two, any sort of activities that happen in the classroom should not happen outside the classroom. We aren’t having a repeat of someone falling off the roof after improper grappling hook management.” Scott held out one final finger. “And number three. If you are to steal anyone’s life, it will result in immediate expulsion, and dire consequences.” He waved his hand, “there’s a few other minor rules, but most people will teach you those as you get used to the program.” 

One of the professors leaned forward and tapped Scott on the shoulder, whispering something. He nodded, “oh, and rule number four, starting this year, no Sumner Runs after midnight anymore. I think you know who you are.” 

Phil let out a soft snort as he looked to Dream and Illumina, who seemed both betrayed and annoyed as they looked back and forth between each other and the Headmaster.

“Alright, that’s all I think I need to say for now. Enjoy your dinner, and have a wonderful school year!” 

There was then the sounds of chairs scraping as the students got up to go and grab their food from the kitchen area next door. Phil watched the crowd of students go by.

He saw Techno walking next to the infamous Wilbur Soot, which was odd, he hadn't remembered the two of them being friends. Phil watched as the self-titled “Dream Team” along with a few of their tag-alongs, of whom Phil recognized Punz, Karl, Bad, and Skeppy, headed off in a pack. He’d had all of them together in their first year Global Law and Culture Course. It had been the worst class of his life.

His gaze then fell to a kid with puffy blonde hair, wearing a red tie around his neck, rather than the uniform black, voice loud enough that he could hear it from halfway across the hall. Tommy Innit.

He'd never met a student like him stupid enough to use their real name. When he'd read it on the roster, he'd nearly gone to administrations to change it himself. It was a bad move for the son of a massive company to not hide his name. Worse to use his _full_ name for that matter. 

“Lots of potential this year, hmm Phil?” Professor Takahashi, who was sat next to him spoke, she seemed to be watching the crowd as well. 

“I’m sure you’re happy to have two prodigies in your class.” 

“They’re as genius as they are annoying,” she replied in a grumble. “I’ll be glad if I make it through to the second semester without them breaking the run again.” 

“How many times have they broken it now?”

“In time, or physically?”

“I dunno, both?” He grinned. “Can’t imagine having a position like yours.” 

She ran her hands over her face. “Wish me luck and plenty of alcohol.” 

“I heard they’re serving it in the dining hall this year.” 

“Really?” She raised her eyebrows. 

“No, I wish.” he sighed. “Especially with the incoming year. I think there’s still some in the faculty lounge I don’t think’s been stolen yet.” 

“I will be back in less than five minutes, do you want anything?” 

“No, I’m fine.” He chuckled. “Knock yourself out, Mari.” 

As she headed off, he sat back in his chair. He caught the eye of a young kid trailing after Tommy, who looked up at him curiously before ducking away. The kid wore green, seemed quiet. Probably a hacker. A Hacker and a Businessman never meant good things.

This year was going to be something. And probably not a good something. 


	2. The History and Politics of the Sumner Run

The mask fit snugly over Dream’s face, a little more tight than the year before, but it only made it easier to see fully through the mask’s false front, and down onto the street below. He was crouched behind a bush, waiting the few precious seconds before the system’s cooldown ended, and he was given the all clear to start his run.

Dream pulled the hood up over his head, checking the metallic band on his right arm that tracked all of the information he would need after, along with his tools for the job itself. He’d been waiting all summer to do this, to perfect the run he and George had been studying over the break. Dream was so ready to see the look on Illumina’s face, the aghast horror of how much time his new exploit would shave off.

His watch beeped with a final good luck message from Sapnap and George, who he knew were waiting down below. Dream’s eyes flicked up to the man standing in the control room, and gave him a thumbs up.

And the simulation flickered to life.

Dream had been born to a cat burglar and a vigilante in a city whose name he’d forgotten, and their competitive streak hadn’t failed to find its mark on him. When he was younger, most people used to jokingly call him “Robin”, comparing his parents to Batman and Catwomen. In reality, neither of them were anything like their comic book counterparts. They were often too busy, or too far on the run to take proper care of him, and much of his life was spent in cars and on long road trips.

Most of his education was the internet and whatever library books he’d pull off the shelf and slip into his coat, just the way Mom had taught him. Dream was smart, there was no denying that, street smart, mostly, but with enough wit and knowledge about the world to get him through classes enough at an online high school to grant him his GED at 16. 

He spent most years bouncing between parents, who juggled jobs and the police often more than they held him. Dream only ever lived in an actual home maybe for a month or so, and then it was pack up and leave to somewhere new.

When his mom had mentioned her alma mater, Dream had begun asking her questions about it immediately. A school for thieves like them, somewhere deep in the north, away from prying eyes. Somewhere permanent. 

He was an adult, freshly 18, when he gained access to the application through a few contacts he’d made throughout the years. The acceptance letter came less than a few hours later. When it asked him what name he’d like to use, pseudonym or real, he hadn’t even considered anything else than Dream. 

It was a name he’d used online, it was in the deepest pit of his heart, one of his greatest desires, to dream freely. 

When he’d arrived at Hermes Academy, it was more of a home than anything he’d ever had before.

In his application, Dream had chosen “Infiltration”, the fancy term for professional thieves and burglars, not quite sure what to expect. When he’d arrived, he’d found himself surrounded by others exactly like him. Fidgety people, usually moving from one place to another often, never quite able to stand still. Dream had pushed his way out from the pack by using his spry nature to an advantage, always moving in calculated motions, never in accidental twitches and turns. However, he wasn’t the only one.

Another kid in his class was almost the same, expect for his wardrobe, as Dream usually wore stained hoodies patterned in different colors, a pair of sweatpants and some grippy shoes he’d bought from a connection through the school, whereas the other always wore clean cut, dark clothing that fell against his body like a costume, and a pair of custom shoes of the same ilk. 

He was called Illumina, which Dream had snidely said to George that he’d chosen it because he believed his grace and power lit up the whole room. 

Professor Takahashi had taken a liking to him just enough more than Dream for him to notice. Both of them had done ballet, he realized after listening to some of their conversations, and after doing enough research to get George to throw a pillow at his head at four am to go to sleep, he began to see it in the way the man moved.

It was because of Illumina that he began taking yoga and dance classes as extracurriculars, and working with some of the Forgery department to strengthen the muscles in his hands for better grip, flexibility, and pinpoint movements. There wasn’t much time before he caught Illumina doing the same.

Halfway into the first semester, out of sheer exhaustion of watching the two, Takahashi took the two of them to the Sumner Run. 

“Here.” She’d said, half exasperated after the two of them argued over the correct way to pull off the Berry Method. “I normally never let students into here until at least second semester sophomore years, but you two...” Her normally kind and forgiving eyes had turned sharp. “...need to funnel your rivalry into something healthy that isn’t my class, okay?” 

The Sumner Run itself, on principle, was simple. Construct a perfect operation to infiltrate a military fort holding an important package. Get in, retrieve the package, get out. Simple. 

The history of the run itself was more complicated than that. 

It had begun as a way to test third year students on what they’d learned, and their ability to work as a team, but the system had grown outdated after the third or fourth year of its use. It was mostly abandoned after its replacement, the Blackwater Heist moved in practically across the hall in the massive hanger complex that housed all of the testing facilities. 

Sometime long before he began to attend Hermes, one of the Infiltration students decided to run the test dry by themself. It wasn’t a stretch to say that their good time, and popularity among students had drawn all sorts to try their hand at beating the best time. 

The minute the two of them had found out about it, the whole thing had all gone downhill from there. Dream and Illumina had been battling back and forth for the top slot for two years now, shaving off seconds, and sometimes more. Neither of them had gotten a substantial head start on one another, but now, Dream knew he’d cracked it. 

Dream lifted himself from the roof, keeping low in the brush outside of the fort. The formula of the run was basic, once you got close, you swung out a small grappling hook onto one of the walls, waiting a few seconds to check the coast before skittering up and over the side. Then a few seconds more, until you were running behind a line of shrubbery, timing yourself to hide from sight behind moving vehicles. 

There had been easier ways, taking the sewers, setting up a grappling line across. All took too much time, the direct approach was the fastest, and it had been at least a hundred or so runs since Dream had last got caught by anyone.

The AI of the holographic interior of the run was smart, but Dream was smarter. He’d practically memorized the code behind each variant of soldier, the movement of the tanks, the routines each might keep for different runs. 

Everything was fair game on the Sumner run, there were unspoken rules, the most important one being, “don’t break the system”, which looked down on getting someone else to help you cheat while inside, or purposefully bug out the AI. That being said, you could do as much scheming and internal hacking as long as it made sense within the parameters of how the run existed. While doing a late night run back at the end of his junior year, he’d discovered something that changed the way he began to look at the Sumner run.

Dream ducked down behind a stalled tank, peering out from behind it to see a guard out front of one of the entrance doors. He had a blue key card on his belt, exactly the one Dream would need to access the first part of the inner building. There were a few seconds as he waited for two guards to move, before he ran across the lot to where the guard stood, slipping the fast acting knockout injection from his band, and pressing it against the next of the guard. 

Dream had snatched the blue key card from his belt before the man had even collapsed to the ground. As he swiped his key across the entrance pad, he dragged the unconscious body in with an arm, pushing it into the supply closet a few feet over.

It was here that the path normally veered to the right, up into the vent system, where one would scramble to the second floor to retrieve a higher level key card in order to access a locked office holding input key to the vault room. 

However, it was in the late night run where Dream had been trying to find a quicker way to the access room that he’d taken down a guard holding a red access key, and stashed it in the same pocket as the blue one. The shortcut hadn’t worked, but it had allowed him to figure out a crucial bypass. With the keys in his pocket, he’d turned around out of desperation, trying to hack into the panel manually without the black access card received after retrieving a third teal access card. 

It was by trying to figure out the coding of the red and blue keys that allowed them through their respective doors to try and reverse engineer them, that he swiped them both across the keypad at the same time. For a brief moment, it had begun to trigger in a similar manner, and it didn’t take much experimenting after that to fully open the door. Through a series of swift motions, Dream could alternate cards, and trick the door into opening. It was genius.

He slapped the knockout injection onto the guard’s neck, and swiped the key. It had worked in practice, and he knew that it would work now, with everyone watching. Dream didn’t even pause to glance up at his time, which ticked away on his watch. He already knew he was cutting down more time than anyone had before.

The end of the hall came, and he slipped past the guards like he had hundreds of times, moving against the wall to the vault entrance. He pulled out both keycards, and savoured the look he’d see on Illumina’s face. Dream swiped them,  _ red, blue, red, blue, red, blue _ , over and over until the vault door let out a series of beeps, and a  _ click _ as the lock disengaged, and the door swung open.

He slipped inside like a ghost, pulling the door closed behind him. Dream stood alone in the large room, in the very center, held on a pedestal, was the package. It was always the same, a package exactly 18 centimeters long, 9 centimeters wide, and 6 centimeters tall, weighing 125 grams, and covered in brown paper. 

Dream tucked it gently under his arm, and returned back into the hall, facing the northern wall, knocking on it as he moved along, listening for the hollow sound of open sheetrock. He held up his arm, engaging the razor sharp knife from inside his metal band. Dream slashed through the wall like it was paper, creating a small hole for himself to slip through and into the walls of the facility. 

His footfalls were silent as he went, counting the changes and turns, before finally finding the one he was looking for. Dream slashed through that as well, his heart pounding as he stepped out into one of the backrooms. One with a janitorial exit.

He headed out the door, keeping his head down as he scaled the wall like it was nothing, landing noiselessly on the other side. 

Dream then began to sprint, out onto the street and away from the fort, towards the dark alleyway where the simulation ended and his run was submitted. Sweat was streaming down his face, mostly out of nerves, the key cards still shuffling in his pocket, the package under his arm. He slammed his hand into the barrier wall, and heard the telltale cybernetic  _ blip _ of the run declaring itself finished.

The darkness began to recede as the glass wall revealed itself. Dream turned his head, looking up at the massive clock over his head. 15:47 flashed over and over again, and Dream felt his knees weaken underneath him as the package dropped to the ground. 

The previous record had been 21:07. 

He turned to face the two people on the other side of the glass, who were surrounded by hundreds of others. His two best friends screaming out praises soundlessly behind the glass. It raised slowly, and he began to hear the shrieks and screams, the thunderous applause from all around him, as nearly all of his class, almost the whole school, had come to see him beat the record. 

Sapnap and George had been talking it up for weeks, before school had even started at all, mentioned to anyone who’d listen about how Dream was going to kick the Sumner run record’s ass that coming Friday. 

They fell on him like a tidal wave, Sapnap and George tackling him in a hug. There were people clapping him on the back as they guided him out of the storm of people, and others chanting his name. Through the chaos, Dream searched for one face, despite already knowing where it was. 

He moved the massive group of people along, ending at the spot in the large hanger that held the run just beneath the platform where it was controlled. 

At the top, his familiar foe stood, glaring down at him with a look of mixed confusion and disbelief. Dream shrugged as if to say, “whatever”, and watched Illumina roll his eyes at the gesture. 

Even when Dream took off his mask, and felt the warmth of George pressing a kiss on his cheek, it wasn’t that moment he savored, though it was nice, but the look in Illumina’s eyes. The heat of jealousy and rivalry that had stoked between them for years. 

Dream was going to enjoy lauding this over him, especially with midnight Sumner runs no longer being allowed by the word of Headmaster Smajor, but he really didn’t think that that was going to stop Illumina. Or even him for that matter.

\- - -

There aren’t really curfew rules at Hermes. In a school for thieves, not quite an easy thing to enforce. Dream stayed at the party thrown for him until about one in the morning, partying with Sapnap and George, and their posse of friends. He snuck away from it almost too easily, heading down one of the long, old hallways of the school to the long open hanger in the western quadrant of the school.

As he walked through the open mouthed entrance to the gigantic space used to house the different runs and tests used to train and teach incoming students. The moonlight poured in through the glass above, shining light onto the concrete floor below, and the rows of benches that lined the center aisle. To each side of him were the garage door entrances to the runs, all closed and locked for the evening. 

He stood before the Sumner Run, where the large door stood shut. His eyes fell to the smaller maintenance door next to it, which stood closed and appeared to still be locked.  _ Well _ , he thought,  _ at least Illumina is smarter than I gave him credit for _ . 

Dream did have the key to the room, he’d already bribed the man who normally ran the runs before the year even started, but he pulled out his lock pick anyway. A key in the door would be what Illumina was waiting for anyway.

His mom used to praise him for how quickly he could unlock doors with little more than a paper clip or a bobby pin, but Dream preferred to use the regular tools no matter. In the silence, it was easy to listen for the soft clicking in the door, and the right pressure he had to use to open it. When Dream had tried to learn to play violin, he’d found it was easiest to compare it to tuning the instrument. The inherent knowledge that the motion wasn’t quite right, the slight twist of his fingers and the satisfying and nearly silent feeling of a deadbolt siding away, or a lock popping free.

On the tips of his toes, apply the least amount of pressure he could, Dream moved into the room soundlessly. He could hear someone in the distance, and lifted his head to see light coming from the control room, and further, the light from within the Sumner Run.

He moved gentle up the stairs, skipping the ones that creaked and moving into the main dashboard. Dream adjusted the microphone used for the loudspeaker in the run itself, and leaned in as far as he could. He pressed down on the button, and in his best Scottish accent, said:

“Now what do you think you’re doing?” 

There was no scream or sudden flurry of movement, but the run shuddered to a stop, and Dream exited the station, leaning over the rail to address whoever it was in the run. But he already knew whose face would show.

Illumina trudged towards the exit as the glass raised, shooting Dream the most annoyed expression he could. “Your Headmaster impression is terrible.” 

“Did I scare you at least a little?” 

“Yeah, I nearly got caught by the guard at R5,” Illumina shrugged.

Dream smiled and winked. “That’s what I like to hear.” 

“How the hell did you get that exploit?” Illumina said incredulously.

“Aren’t we not supposed to be in here?” Dream asked with a fake sincerity. He began to descend the stairs to the floor. “Didn’t the-”

“We both know that we’re going to ignore that.” He let out a snort. “Besides, the guy up there already told me that you paid him off before me.” 

“How much did you give him?”

“Double,” Illumina grumbled it like it was nothing. He seemed more annoyed that Dream had gotten their first than how much it’d cost him.

“Ooh,” Dream mock winced. “Sucks to suck.”

Illumina took a few steps closer as Dream approached. “You know you’re the worst, right? Like you’re horribly insufferable in every way?”

“I do actually.” He shot a glance around them, mainly looking up at where his time registered above. “I was actually just at a party for myself. For that-” he pointed up at the clock. “Pretty proud if I’m honest.” 

“Are you going to tell me how you managed to do that?” 

“Why would I ever even consider that,” Dream pushed his hands into his pockets. “Though a rich boy like you could pay someone to do it.” 

Illumina suddenly went quiet, “did you lock the door?”

“What?”

Illumina grabbed his arm and dragged him behind the overhead station, pushing open the door to the lower maintenance closet and pulling both of them inside. He closed the door as quietly as he could behind them, and Dream found inside practically nose to nose with Illumina.

“Well this is something,” Dream whispered.

“Shut  _ up _ ,” Illumina hissed back, “do you want to get caught?”

“Like this? With you?” Dream looked him up and down. “Never.” 

Illumina slapped a hand over his mouth, glaring at him with those sharp eyes that normally rolled, not stared. 

Dream quieted down, and pushed away the urge to lick the inside of Illumina’s hand. Outside, he heard the footsteps of somebody entering the run. They faded for a moment, but he could still hear a jingle of keys, and noticed the swipe of a flashlight that came under the door. 

They both waited there for a few more minutes before Illumina opened the door and took a look around, before his shoulders relaxed, and he motioned for Dream to come out. 

“Well, at least we know they’re checking it now,” Dream said at a near whisper.

“You owe me,” Illumina replied quietly as he began towards the exit. Dream followed after.

“I don’t owe you anything,” Dream murmured in response. “I didn’t ask you to pull me into that closet with you.” 

“You owe me.” Illumina repeated.

“What, do you want me to give you a little kiss?” 

“No,” he soured. 

“Heh heh,” Dream chuckled. “Night Illumina,” he said as he turned to head back to his dorm hall. “Don’t let the Spy students steal your shit.”

“Night,” he said softly in return, “same to you, I guess.” 

Dream couldn’t wait to annoy Illumina for the rest of the semester, especially if it was going to be like this. 


	3. The Divine Art of Pretending

When he first arrived at Hermes Academy, Tommy had almost expected everyone to bow at his feet. He was, of course, probably the most powerful person there, _obviously_ , the son of the CEO of the biggest tech company in the world, InnitCorp, who had graduated top of his class nearly two decades before. 

To everyone looking in at him, the son in the shadow a mile long, would think that he was some prissy good two-shoes. He’d be the shiny valedictorian with a rap sheet of perfect grades and records that would gain star marks as Hermes, and lots of praise from all of his Professors. 

Tommy prided himself on being anything but. He was loud and demanding, and cared very little about his image besides what it did for his status. It appeared that in his father’s coddling and money throwing, arrogance had grown wild.

He was picked up from his penthouse in London by their chauffeur Benny, who drove him to the private airport where his father shared hanger space with other CEOs that had the money to own jets and joy-ride planes, and the occasional helicopter. It was there that he was flown to a tiny, dinky airport somewhere several hours away.

Tommy stepped off the plane into surroundings that looked, pretty ugly, in his opinion. Everything was grey, brown, or some dying green, the trees rising in the distance like spiky black spires. 

The first sign that something might be wrong was the fact that there wasn’t a car waiting for him when he’d arrived. Tommy had never had to wait for anything in his life, and when he had, it was always phased out of his life quickly after. He stood in a thick black wool coat over a pristine, handmade suit that had cost more than most people often made in a year. A red tie made of fingerling silk, and embroidered by the hands of a master, hung loose from his neck.

He tossed his hair with a hand, looking to the watch on his wrist as he tried to keep his weight light on his feet so as not to damage the soft baby leather of his shoes. In his hand he held the black tie of the freshman class at Hermes. He’d be informing the drivers and attendants that he’d been putting the silk tie over his eyes, not this scratchy abomination. 

A black SUV arrived five or so minutes after he’d been standing alone in the cold, only flanked with the lacking number of three security guards. He was honestly used to five at least back home. The door opened, and a familiar face stepped out, with a gentle smile. 

“Hello Mr. Innit. I am Headmaster Major. I’ll be escorting you onto the premise personally, per your father’s request.”

“You’re a bit late,” Tommy replied, keening his head to see inside of the car. “But I guess it’s whatever.” He looked back up at the headmaster. “I’ve heard from my father that you do the tie over the eye thing. Due to personal preference, and also just like common dignity, I’m not going to wear the tacky piece of cotton produced in some sweatshop, and instead, the one I came with.” He handed the black one over to Headmaster Major, and undid the tie from around his neck.

“Uh, I’m sure that’s fine, for now. But you do know you’ll have to abide by our dress code eventually, right? Which includes this tie.” 

“I’m positive you can make an exception,” he moved past the headmaster and slipped into the car. Tommy buckled himself in as the other man moved to sit across from him. 

“Despite all the leniency your father gives you, there are some rules that _all_ students have to follow.”

Tommy moved to wrap the tie around his head, securing it over his eyes. “Dr. Major, how much money does my father generously donate to the Academy each year.” 

“I really don’t think we need to-”

“6.5 million dollars a year, I think it was…” Tommy pretended to tick numbers off on his fingers, despite knowing them to a tee. 

“Lots of families give money to the academy,” the headmaster responded calmly, “they still have to abide by school rules.”

“Scott, can I call you Scott? How much money can I give you right now to just turn a blind eye for the year.”

“It’s Dr. Major, or Headmaster, and there is no amount of money I can be paid to allow you to break school rules.” Tommy couldn’t see the headmaster, but he could hear him shifting around in the background. “The students here who get in on pure merit deserve the same treatment as those who paid their way in.” His voice grew slightly sharp. “I’ve seen your entrance scores, and your record sheet, Tommy, we both know that your father’s _donation_ wasn’t just out of the goodness of his heart.” 

“Um,” Tommy swallowed. “It’s uh, Mr.In-” He interrupted himself as the question furthered in his mind. “I thought those results were sealed? I thought only a blind panel of judges could see them?” 

“Your father has given this institution a rather large amount of money over the years, Tommy. Someone had to go look at them in order to give him the results.” There was a slight pause in the conversation, as Tommy grew to a loss of words. “So, what discipline did you choose?” 

“Oh so you can look at my sealed scores, but you can’t take the moment to look up my classes?” 

“I’m a busy man, Tommy.” There was a slight snicker. “Don’t really have the time to look at some new student’s choices unless I need to speak to them about it.” 

“I’m choosing Business,” Tommy replied, trying not to lose the cocky tone in his voice. “Though I’m thinking about multi-disciplining in Grifting.” 

There was a momentary pause. “You know how difficult multi-disciplining is, right?” 

“My father did it when he went here.”

“If I remember correctly, your father ended up graduating valedictorian, didn’t he?” He heard the shuffling of the headmaster pulling something from his pocket. “Hmm,” there was a brief pause. “Business and Grifting as well, it seems your father took.” 

“And what did you take while you were a student?” 

“Masterminding, and a bit of Espionage to round it out.” 

“Of course you did,” Tommy replied. He turned his head to where he could feel the cool of the window next to him, and the barest bit of light that came in from the top of his tie.

The rest of the ride was more civil, with the headmaster asking him a few questions, and Tommy answering most of them in full, sometimes a bit longer winded than it sounded like the headmaster liked. 

Eventually, the exasperated announcement came. “Alright, we’re here,” the headmaster said, interrupting something he was saying. 

“Oh, well I was going to mention that my father was looking to expand into Lithuania, but,” Tommy removed his blindfold as the car pulled past a massive gate, and as the campus of Hermes spread before them, he was at a loss for words. 

The buildings were massive, spanning structures, built like one of the old Universities he’d seen back in London. The buildings were a rusty red in color towards the bottom, but farther up were made of a paler looking limestone, with massive stone statues of gargoyles and other snarling animals perched on their high mounts, stained from weathering and the elements. 

He stepped out to see other students, some in uniforms and others still in street clothing heading towards the entrance of the building, lugging in bags and suitcases, along with whole trunks being put on a platform that were labeled with different locations. The air was crisp and cold, not unlike England in the fall, but the air was dry against his skin, the breeze practically ripping into his coat almost immediately. 

“Well,” Dr. Major stepped out of the car. “We’re here. This is where you’re on your own. Based on what your father wrote me, you’ll be able to make your way around just fine.” 

“Right,” Tommy said, still taking in the sheer scale of the campus. The buildings seemed to go on forever, sprouting up from the dying grass, and surrounded by pine forest.

One of the security officers helped him gather his suitcases, of which there were many, and helped him load them onto the pallets that would deliver them to his dorm eventually so that he didn’t have to lug them up several flights of stairs. There would still be things coming later, not to mention what his father had already allowed him to send to the school via a secure mailing system. 

Tommy was then left alone, his designer Benoit duffel over his shoulder, and the M-Signature suitcase, in a custom red and white, dragged behind him. He’d been here with his father once before, flown in on a helicopter, (which was why they’d argued back and forth about having that _drive_ there when he could just fly). It was about the experience, he’d been told, the ride in the big black car through the Nordic wilderness with a tie over your eyes and your adrenaline pumping. 

He didn’t really think he’d gotten much of an experience driving for two or so hours with the headmaster of the Academy. Tommy headed into the building, slipping into the crowds of people, and smirking at whoever looked at him. There were a few that even appeared to recognize him, or at least, were maybe gawking at his clothing as the duffel against his back. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. He just wished he’d brought sunglasses. 

He was supposedly being housed in Porter Hall, on the east side of campus, and he followed the map on his phone as he checked his dorm room number. Tommy had been meant to live alone in a suite in the staff hall, Falter, but his father had insisted that he live the college way, and take on a roommate and a crowded dorm room. He hated the thought of it, but here he was, brushing elbows with other students as he pushed his way down the hall to dorm 501. 

Tommy pulled the keycard he’d received in the mail from where it’d been in his wallet, and flicked it across the censor on the door. It flickered from red to green, and with a click, he turned the knob and pushed open the door to the dorm room with a hand. It was as tiny as he’d expected, maybe even more so, with a bunk on either side. One side was bare, and the other, already in the beginning stages of getting put together.

The bunk to the left had a bedspread and sheets thrown on top of it, and underneath, a plastic fold out desk with a stiff chair that had been pushed to the side. On top of it sat three monitors, along with two keyboards, some sort of switch board, and a mouse on a pad. Underneath the table were a mess of wire and glowing boxes, along with a kid lying on his back underneath, fiddling with wires. 

“Uh, hello?” 

The guy sat up, narrowly missing hitting his head on the desk on the way up. He had long brown hair that nearly fell into his eyes, and looked at Tommy with an expression of confusion before his eyebrows jumped up. 

“Oh are you my roommate? Tommy, right?” 

“Yeah,” he replied. “And you are?”

“Uh,” the guy paused. “I’m Tubbo.” 

“What sort of name is Tubbo?” 

“It’s uh, my screen name. For like, security reasons. I like using it better than my real name anyway.” 

The Tubbo kid stood, and Tommy took in the green button-up not quite tucked into his pants or buttoned up correctly, and the pair of faded jeans that were clearly faded for age and not to be trendy, and decided that a roommate was a very, very bad idea.

“You’re the son of the Innit guy, right?” 

“Yep,” Tommy replied, tossing his things onto the ground underneath his bunk. “Though not surprised you recognized me.”

“Actually,” the kid looked towards the floor, fidgeting with one of his belt loops, “I looked you up just before you got here. I had no idea who you were before that, I mean, I knew about InnitCorp, but I thought it was like, a coincidence.” 

“Oh,” Tommy replied. “Okay.”

“But that’s cool, I guess, to have a dad who’s big in tech.” He looked up, “you must have like, all the best gear or whatever.”

“I’m not really into that stuff, besides like, my phone of course.” Tommy slipped it out of his pocket, and held it up. 

Tubbo raised his eyebrows. “Expensive,” he replied. “And definitely not the most secure brand.” He turned back towards the computer, crawling underneath it again. “They had like, _seventeen_ data breaches last year, and I should know, I helped with one of them.”

“Oh so you’re a hacker or whatever,” Tommy pretended to look at a message that had just come in on his phone. 

“Yeah, that’s what they put me in when I applied.”

The two went quiet for a moment, which was more so Tommy, as he fell back onto his bed as Tubbo fiddled with wires and a flashlight below. He leaned his head over to get a good look, seeing the shadow of the kid’s hands as he worked gently untangling and connecting.

“So you, uh, like computers then?” 

“Yeah, quite a lot actually.” Tubbo’s muffled voice came from underneath. He paused for a moment before continuing, “the school gave me a stipend for a new setup, so I left some parts of my old one back at home.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yep, mostly just using two laptops I got hand-me down as monitors, and an old harddrive my dad bought back in the early 2000’s.” 

“Jesus, really?” He shook his head. “I can’t imagine, I got a computer for a holiday once, I don’t remember which, but I didn’t really use it for much besides like, Minecraft.” 

Tubbo nearly banged his head sitting up. “You like Minecraft?” 

“Uh yeah, a bit actually.” 

“I literally learned to hack through it.” Tubbo scooted out, immediately appearing more interested in the conversation. “You play much just like straight up vanilla or like on Hypixel?” 

“Some people would call me a BedWars god,” Tommy lifted his chin with pride. 

“Oh, you’re definitely on,” Tubbo grinned. 

There was a knock at the door, and Tubbo hopped up, opening it. An incredibly tall dude stood in the doorway, his hair slightly shaggy and dyed a dark forest green, with a shorter guy next to him, with short brown hair, glasses, and a brilliant smile. 

“Oh heya Tubbo,” the tall guy said with surprise. “I didn’t know you were in this dorm.” 

“Sam!” Tubbo exclaimed. Tommy stood from where he’d been sitting on the bed, getting a better look at the two. “Yeah, I was gonna message you on Discord, but I got way too distracted setting up that beauty.” He pointed behind him at the messy setup on the desk. 

“Oh nice!” Sam replied, “yeah me and Bad were just going door to door introducing ourselves.” 

“Yep,” the other guy, Bad, Tommy presumed, spoke up. “We’re your Resident Advisors on this floor, so we just wanted to check in and say that the opening remarks are in about ten minutes, so if you’re not already in your uniforms, to get changed and head down there.” 

“Alright, see you after to talk about _the thing_?” Sam pointed a finger at Tubbo. 

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it for the _world_.” Bad let out a little snort, mumbled something about hackers, and began heading down the hallway. Tubbo gave Sam a little wave goodbye before he closed the door.

“Opening remarks?” Tommy lifted an eyebrow. 

“Yup,” Tubbo replied, opening a door to his left that led to his closet. “The Headmaster is going to tell us what and what not to do this year.” 

“Ugh, I can’t wait to listen to him for another, however long it’s going to be.”

“Another?”

“Long story,” Tommy waved his hand. 

“Really?”

He paused for a moment, before catching Tubbo’s eye in the mirror. Okay, maybe a roommate wasn’t such a bad thing, at least he had someone to talk to...for once.

“Alright,” he sighed, almost over exaggerating. “I’ll tell you on the way.”


End file.
